Chapter 2 — Nobody Touches the Baby

“I’d rather deal with a landmine."

That was the first thing Dante heard when he walked into his study. He’d spent the last hour trying to shower and change while making sure Luna was settled, and when he finally stepped into the room, he found six of his toughest guys standing in a wide, uneasy circle around the sofa. They were staring at the baby the way a bomb squad stares at a ticking suitcase.

Nobody had dared to get within four feet of her.

"She's a baby," Dante said, leaning against the doorframe. He looked at these men—men who had handled more blood and violence than Dante cared to think about before his first coffee—and sighed. "Not an explosive."

"With all due respect, boss," Marco said, his voice deep and cautious, "landmines don't scream like that."

"She isn't screaming now."

"She was five minutes ago," Marco replied grimly. "I've never heard a sound like that come out of something so small."

Dante crossed the room and picked her up. He was still a bit clumsy with the movement, but he was getting the hang of it. As soon as the baby was out of their orbit, he could practically feel the collective relief in the room. The burden of responsibility had been shifted, and they were all more than happy about it.

"I need someone to hold her while I make some calls," Dante said. "This isn't a request."

The silence that followed was heavy. It wasn't that they were defying him; it was just a very unified, very desperate reluctance to be the one holding the "landmine."

"Enzo," Dante said, picking the youngest guy in the room.

Enzo’s eyes went wide. "Boss, I’ve never held a baby in my life."

"Neither had I, twelve hours ago."

"That's not helping, boss."

"I wasn't trying to help. I was giving an order."

Enzo approached the baby like he was trying to touch a live wire. Dante handed her over, adjusting Enzo’s grip twice to make sure she was secure, and then stepped back. For ten seconds, the room was dead silent.

Then Luna looked up at Enzo—who was already sweating under the gaze of the entire organization—and let out a wail that sounded like a siren.

"Give her back!" Enzo blurted, practically thrusting the baby back toward Dante like a package he’d just realized was on fire.

"You had her for eleven seconds."

"She hates me, boss. I can feel it. It's immediate."

"She doesn't even know you—"

"Then she hates me on principle, which is even worse—"

Marco, apparently deciding that watching Enzo fail was better than actually helping, stepped in. He reached out and took Luna without being asked. Some old sibling instinct kicked in; he held her with a surprising amount of confidence, bouncing her gently and humming something low and rhythmic. Miraculously, the screaming stopped.

"How the hell did you do that?" Enzo asked.

"I have four little sisters," Marco said, looking a little embarrassed to be showing a soft side in a room full of killers. "You just have to stay steady. Babies can feel it when you're nervous."

"I wasn't nervous."

"You're sweating through your shirt, man."

"That's from the gym."

Dante watched them, realizing that his entire household—an empire built on discipline and absolute control—had just been reorganized around the whims of a tiny human with no last name.

"Marco," Dante said. "You're on baby duty until further notice."

Marco’s face dropped. "Boss, I've got a shipment to oversee at the docks tonight."

"Delegate it."

"To who?"

"I don't care. Figure it out. You're the only one who knows what they're doing, and until I find out who she belongs to, I need someone who can keep her quiet while I work."

Marco looked down at Luna. She had settled into the crook of his arm, looking completely trusting and boneless. His expression softened, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if the guys find out the scariest man on the crew got demoted to babysitter, I want it on the record that I protested."

"Noted."

***

By noon, the house had a new schedule that nobody had agreed to, but everyone was following. Feedings happened whenever Luna decided it was time—which was often, and always announced at max volume. Marco had basically declared himself the head of childcare, barking orders about bottle temperatures and burping techniques with the same intensity he used for coordinating armed transports. Enzo, as punishment for his first failed attempt, had been assigned to diaper duty—a move Dante suspected was purely Marco’s way of being spiteful.

Dante found himself checking on her way more than he needed to. Between phone calls trying to track down her parents—which were currently leading to nothing but dead ends—he kept finding excuses to walk past the room she was in. He told himself it was just "quality control," the same way he checked every shipment leaving his warehouses.

He kept telling himself that until late that afternoon, when he found Marco pacing the makeshift nursery, looking genuinely desperate. Luna was fighting her nap with a stubborn fury, refusing to close her eyes.

"She won't settle," Marco said, sounding defeated. "I've tried everything. Rocking, singing, the blanket thing... I don't know what else to do."

Without really thinking about it, Dante held out his arms.

Marco handed her over with a sigh of relief. Dante settled her against his shoulder, using the low, steady pressure and slow sway he’d discovered worked around four in the morning. Within seconds, Luna stopped wriggling. Within a minute, her eyes were drooping. Within three, she was fast asleep, her tiny fist curled against his collar.

Marco watched them for a long moment.

"She really likes you, boss."

"She's tired. That's all it is."

"Sure," Marco said, his voice suggesting he didn't believe that for a second. And looking at the weird, tight knot forming in his own chest, Dante realized he didn't believe it either.

He stood there for a while, feeling her breathing against his arm. He thought—distantly—that finding whoever left her on his doorstep was going to be a lot more complicated than he thought. Not because the trail was cold.

But because a small part of him had already stopped wanting to find it.